Night in Tunisia

You know you're hooked when...

Last night I worked late, and when I got home, instead of doing my
share of the chores, I chatted with Loren, ate, prepared lunch for
tomorrow and then went to bed. I didn't even clean up after myself.

Loren on the other hand, since arriving home at 6PM, had done the
laundry (by hand, mind you), swept the whole house, cooked a meal, and
prepared 10 canvases for painting.

Out of guilt, though not from any reproach from Loren, I got up at 5AM
to do the dishes before going to the gym. Loren got up at about 5:20
and, half-asleep, stumbled into the kitchen. Without a hello, or a
good morning, he opened the fridge, scratched his hip, and pulled out
the coffee beans. Closing the door, he seemed to stall for a moment,
and then reached past me for the hand-grinder. Then he turned around,
his hands full, and stumbled back to the bedroom.

A moment later, I could hear the sound of the hand grinder pulling
apart the beans. It lasted about four minutes.

It took me 10 minutes more to finish cleaning the kitchen, then,
figuring I could start the coffee, I went in search of the
hand-grinder, now supposedly full of ground beans.

Loren, back in the bedroom, was fast asleep with both hands wrapped
around the hand grinder, carefully, unconsciously, keeping it upright
on the mattress. The covers were thrown back, there was a sprinkling
of coffee bean bits on the sheet and Loren, not a stitch on him, lay
peacefully curled up with his hands protecting his cherished Arabian
beans.

I almost didn't wake him. Though he would have been heartbroken, I
think, to not have had coffee after

And to think that only a few months ago, we drank almost exclusively
tea. Well bad tea and fabulous coffee have done their trick. We're
hooked. One of us, perhaps, more so than the other...

And one last comment that remains to be said: Good taste runs in the family.

Like mother, like son.

posted by tiaraletourneau @ 10:56 a.m.